


Fine

by hanyou_elf



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Denial, Gen, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 17:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanyou_elf/pseuds/hanyou_elf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fine

**Author's Note:**

> The rape is off-stage and implied. Pre-serum.

“I’m fine.” 

He practices it in the small mirror that they’d managed to scrounge up out of the junkyard. He’s got a pair of boxers on and a pair of sweatpants low on his slender hips. He wore an undershirt, a t-shirt, and one of Bucky’s large hooded sweatshirts. He can’t let Bucky know. He’s got a black eye and a cut on his lip.

The bathroom is small and it’s humid and warm. He shifts in the bathroom and groans as the movement sends pain throbbing through his body. The tears gather in his eyes, and he blinks them away desperately. He can’t… he can’t cry. He’s fine. 

“I’m fine,” he tells himself.

He hears the front door open and slam shut behind Bucky’s entrance. He knows he’s safe but that doesn’t stop the irrational flinch at the noise. He can hear Bucky in the kitchen, scraping together something a quick meal- the leftovers that Steve had set out for him.

“I’m fine,” he repeats.

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice, garbled around a mouthful of food. “You here?”

“I’m here,” he calls softly. He breathes in the moist air, heaves a deep breath in and shudders as he reminds himself that he’s fine. He opens the door and cool air whips around him as the humid air dissipates. Gooseflesh erupts over his skin and he licks his lips before he goes into the living room.

“Steve,” Bucky sighs. It’s a long suffering sound, like he can’t believe that he’s seeing Steve hurt again. He puts the sandwich he had put together down and strides toward Steve’s smaller body. Steve flinches- can’t control it- and Bucky freezes. “Steve?”

Steve shakes his head negatively. He smiles through the split lip and folds his arms over his thin chest. It’s hard to breath in the cooler air of the apartment and Steve gasps a deep breath in. He licks his bruised lips and closes his eyes as he breaths shallowly, trying to get even a semblance of control to himself. 

“Steve,” he says softly. His voice is soft and comforting, the same tone he would have used on a hurt animal. Or Steve when he’d been found in the alley again. 

“I’m fine,” Steve lies. It’s a blatant lie and he knows that Bucky can see right through it, but it doesn’t stop him from trying. He’s bundled up in layers of clothing that he wouldn’t have been otherwise. His face bears the proof of just how not fine he is. He breathes slowly, forcing himself to try to be calm. To maintain the façade that he’s put together. “I’m fine,” he repeats, and for good measure he twitches his lips upwards in a semblance of a smile.

“Who beat you up?” Bucky asks as he cups Steve’s bruised cheek tenderly.

“It wasn’t like that,” Steve shrugs with as much casualness as he can manage. He leans into the soft touch before he pulls away. 

“Trust me,” Bucky murmurs. 

He steps into Steve’s space wraps his arms around Steve. Bucky is his best friend, Bucky is safe. He’s never hurt him before, never given Steve any reason to doubt him. But he can’t stop the fear that rides down his spine and he can’t stop himself from tensing up. It hurts, to be so rigid, sends pain through his stomach and lower back. Steve shivers and closes his eyes again, unwilling to look at him. 

He sobs and fists his hands at his side as he mumbles, “I’m fine.” 

He can hear the lie. The way his voice trembles when he speaks, the way his throat clicks when he swallows against the tears. He can feel how his body is trying to shake apart in Bucky’s arms; he’s struggling with his mind yelling at him to run far and fast. He needs to take another bath and to boil water because the water heater had given up the ghost. He knows that he can’t, that he shouldn’t, but he’s so confused. 

He can’t breathe. His chest hurts and he’s desperate to draw a deep breathe in, but it’s impossible. There are tears on his cheeks and he sobs when Bucky’s hand cups the back of his head and encourages him to bury Steve’s face against his neck. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Steve moves. He brings his hands up and fists them in the front of Bucky’s t-shirt, clinging desperately to the thin fabric and allows himself to fall apart. 

He sobs, crying even though he knows it isn’t something that men should do. His dad had beaten masculinity into him, stoicism and a hardness that he was supposed to have. But he couldn’t keep it, not now. Not for this. He needs to be allowed to cry, to be a sissy. For now, he’s not okay and he doesn’t have to pretend that he is. Not with Bucky holding him so comfortingly.

For just this minute, he’s not okay, but Bucky’s going to protect him. 

“Let it out, Stevie. I’ve gotcha,” Bucky murmurs softly against his temple. He’s swaying, his hands still; one against Steve’s head and the other across the broadest part of his shoulders. “It’ll be okay, I promise.” 

“I’m fine,” Steve sobs into the warm skin of his best friend’s neck. He repeats it, the only mantra he’s got left to protect him from the harshness of reality. To save his mind from having to think about what happened. What he couldn’t stop. He’s fine, because he has to be. Because _that_ didn’t happen to men. He was fine. 

He’s fine.


End file.
